Quinton couldn’t convince the officers that Jillian was missing. With his permission, they searched the house. He was half hoping they’d find her. The other half was afraid if they did, she’d be dead, too.
He called John, but it took John almost an hour to get to the mansion. “Where the hell have you been?” Quinton demanded as soon as he came in the front door. “I was wooing my wife in the backyard like you told me to do.”
“What happened, Quinton?” Marilyn asked as she followed her husband in.
“I don’t know. I got home like we planned, and Jillian wasn’t here.”
“I last saw her at nine-thirty or ten,” Gloria volunteered.
“Please, everyone. Come in and have a seat,” Detective Covington said.
As soon as everyone was seated, Detective Kramer asked, “Could she have gone out after the maid last saw her?”
“No, Ma’am,” Gloria replied. “She was sitting on the balcony waiting for Mr. Kincade.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Is that a habit or something?”
“My wife and I often sit on our balcony at night. I’d been away and we’d arranged to meet there about eleven tonight.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense. You have this lovely home. Why would you not meet at the front door?” Kramer crossed her long legs and eyed Quinton.
“The balcony is a special place for us. It’s where we can be away from the rest of the world.”
“Did anyone else ever meet her on the balcony?” the detective asked.
John stood. “Lady, get your head out of the sand and listen to the man. He’s a newlywed and is too nice to tell you that the balcony is where he and his wife like to make love. He’d been gone two days. He couldn’t wait to get back to her, and she was as anxious as he was.”
Detective Kramer blushed and swallowed.
Detective Covington broke in. “How long has your new wife known about your relationship with Maddie Jones?”
“She has known about Miss Jones almost since she and her husband came back from their honeymoon.” Marilyn pushed her shoulders back and stared at the officer while John and Quinton stared at her.
“How do you know this, Mrs. Von Cannon?”
“She told me.”
“Why would she tell you?”
“Because we’re friends. Friends tell each other things.”
“I don’t tell my friends about my personal life.”
“That’s because you’re a man, Mr. Covington. Women are different. They have feelings.”
He kind of blushed at this remark and turned back to Quinton. “Mr. Kincade, when and where did you go on this business trip?”
“Actually, we went yesterday and it was to Lake Lure.”
“We? Who was with you, Mr. Kincade?”
“My attorney, John Von Cannon, and my chauffeur, Calvin Hines.”
The officer swallowed. “Did anyone else see you there?”
Calvin said, “Mr. Johansson, the shopkeeper saw me when I went for supplies.” He stood up straight. “I have the receipts because cook demands I bring them back after going to the lake. I can also show you the tickets where I bought gas. Those go in a file for Mr. Kincade’s taxes or something.”
“And I have the cell phone records where I called my wife and I’m sure the record will be on the phone bill at the cabin where Mr. Kincade called his.” John glared at Detective Covington. It was easy to see the attorney and the officer had tangled before. “Is there any further proof you need to see that Mr. Kincade didn’t have anything to do with the murder of Miss Jones, or the disappearance of his wife?”
“No, Mr. Von Cannon, there isn’t. Now I need to find out where Mrs. Kincade is so I can question her.”
“We all want to know where Mrs. Kincade is.” Melba had come into the room and was wringing her hands. “She’s such a dear person.”
“How long have you known Mrs. Kincade?”
“Since Mr. Kincade brought her home from their honeymoon. She’s the nicest person in the world to work for.”
“Have you ever seen her lose her temper,” Detective Kramer took up the questioning.
“No, Ma’am. She’s as gentle as they come. When Mr. Kincade is late, she doesn’t complain or anything. She always says she knows he has a good reason.”
“Could that reason be because he was visiting Miss Jones?”
“She didn’t know about Miss Jones.” Melba stuck her chin out and set her eyes in a blank stare.
“But Mrs. Von Cannon said she did know about her.” She looked at Melba.
“I don’t know about that. She never said anything about it to me.” Melba’s expression didn’t change.
“Does she always confide in the servants?”
Everyone on the staff stiffened.
“We don’t have servants, Detective Kramer,” Quinton said. “These fine people work for us.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled and turned back to Melba. “Was Mrs. Kincade at home all day?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Where was she?”
“I don’t question Mr. or Mrs. Kincade when they leave the house. It’s none of my business where they go.”
Bertram broke in. “Mrs. Kincade asked me to drive her over to Mrs. Von Cannon’s house this morning.”
“Did you?”
“Of course.”
“Did you wait for her?”
“No. She said she’d call when she was ready to come home.”
“Did she call?”
“No, Ma’am. Mrs. Von Cannon brought her home.”
“What time was this?”
“About five,” Melba said. “I was cooking dinner and she came into the kitchen and got a glass of tea.”
“Did she leave after Mrs. Von Cannon brought her home?”
“No.”
“I see.” The detective turned to Marilyn. “Is this true?”
“Yes, it’s true. I told you earlier we were friends. Mrs. Kincade missed her husband and she didn’t want to be alone. We spent the day together.”
“Where did you go?”
“I don’t know. We had coffee at the house.” She glanced at John. “I’m sorry, honey, I dropped the cream pitcher to your mother’s china. It shattered all over the kitchen floor.”
“That’s okay. I never cared much for that china anyway.”
“I don’t need to know about your china, Mrs. Von Cannon,” Detective Kramer said. “I’m more interested in what you and Mrs. Kincade did.”
Marilyn stuck her nose in the air and gave the detective an icy stare. “Well, you know about the china whether you want to or not. As for what we did, what difference does it make if we went for drinks or went to a porn movie or met our lovers or simply sat in the park as women often do? We were together. That’s all you should be interested in.”
“We’re just trying to find out where Mrs. Kincade could be, Mrs. Von Cannon.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to do. Somebody has taken my wife, and I want to know who, and I want to know why.” Quinton stood. “While you’re trying to get your act together, I’m going to call the chief. Maybe he’ll think my wife’s disappearance is more important than these dumb questions you keep asking.”
* * * *
The rest of the night dragged for Quinton. He went to the room he shared with Jillian about three, but couldn’t sleep. He was sorry Maddie had been killed, but, at this time he was more concerned with Jillian’s disappearance.
He knew from the things the detectives said, they thought Jillian had killed Maddie in a rage and run away to keep from being arrested. He, and anyone else who knew Jillian, thought this ridiculous. Jillian would never hurt anyone. But someone might hurt her.
Damn. Why wasn’t I here to protect her? She’s so sweet and innocent. A woman like her would be vulnerable to anyone who came along and gave her a sob story. He knew this, because he’d done it himself. It didn’t matter that his story was true. He’d used it to play on her sympathy. Otherwise he wouldn’t be married to her.
“Oh, Jillian,” he said into the blackness of the night. “I wish I’d told you I love you. You should’ve heard it from me before now. I know it took me a long time to see it, but you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Why have I been so blind for so long?”
He got out of bed and went to the balcony. The wine Gloria had talked about was still in the water where the ice had melted in the cooler. Two glasses were sitting on the wrought iron table beside the cooler. Neither had been used.
Quinton could hold it in no longer. He sat down on the glider and cried.